Fire and Ice
by Shamrock Shannyn
Summary: When Bruce Wayne is abducted by the Joker and Harley Quinn its up to 12 year old Dick Grayson to save him


Disclaimer: Batman and related characters are the properties of DC COMICS. This is an original fan fiction story, not written for profit and not intended to infringe on their copyright.

Fire and Ice

By: Shannyn Grayson Ivy

It's almost like a dream. Almost. I can no longer feel my fingers, the protection from the gloves no longer a luxury. Where... are… my gloves? I struggle to remember. A gray haze consumes my thoughts making it impossible to totally focus. That MUST be why I can't remember where I am. Or even-who- I am.

I'm staggering through a foot and a half of snow. Tilting forward as I walk, always on the verge of falling. Funny how that seems normal to me…

The pain in my lower back is unbearable. I hear myself cry out as my knees give way. Within seconds my left leg is broken, snapped, like an icy limb from a tree. As I crouch to the ground to hold my leg I find that I am hugging myself. I indulge myself in this pathetic attempt for comfort against the elements, the pain, and the pieces of memories that filter through my fleeting moments of clarity.

Confused, I take a moment to survey my surroundings. Tree after tree is my only point of reference. A mixture of snow and sleet belt my bare face and I taste the moisture, enjoying it. Blood is dripping from my leg as the bone protrudes from the skin. I sit and watch the crimson as it falls into the snow. My heart rate seems to be slowing. I'm warmer now. Much warmer. I lie back letting the snow cover me like a blanket.

My mind drifts, as my eyes flutter, tickled by the damp snow that lands in my eyelashes. I'm not sure why, but I feel as though I should continue the fight. Attempt to stay conscious. I question myself as to why it matters. It's not like anyone would care if I just succumbed to the elements. A voice inside me quickly corrects me. _Wrong, he would care…_

Who _he_ is, I'm not sure. The memory of a dark haired boy with laughing eyes floats through my mind and I smile. My son. He's my son. I can't remember his name but I can't forget his smile or the way it makes me feel. I have to fight. I promised myself I would do everything in my power never to see tears in his eyes again.

I don't know. Maybe it's the cold, or maybe I'm going insane. But I keep hearing my father's voice telling me it's time to go. My father. I…I can't remember…what he looks like. But it's _his _voice that is calling to me, I'm sure of it. I have to get up; I can't let him down again…

My fingers, stiff from the cold, reach out for anything I can use as leverage. With my right arm outreached, I can barely feel a hard substance just within my grasp. Most likely a rock, I reason as I achieve my goal of latching onto it. The good news is, more of me than not is frozen, providing a protective numbness from the pain. The bad news is I'm so warm now that I feel as if I'm lying naked on the beach…

A soft inner voice tells me that I'm dying. I'm freezing to death. How, I wonder, can I be freezing when I'm so hot? That detail strikes me as amusing and I'm suddenly giddy, laughing now uncontrollably. I'm hysterical, frozen and ablaze, all the while trying to haul myself up this damned rock. I manage to get to my knees, proud of that accomplishment; I look up just as my 'rock' attacks.

A swift kick in the general area of my face knocks me backwards. Surprised by the sudden show of aggression by my 'rock', I at least stop that irritating laughter. Laughter... Laughing… Laugh… Clown….CLOWN.

It all comes back to me in a gush of memory. My name is Bruce Wayne and I have been fighting the costumed clown before me, both literally and figuratively, for years. He knows me only as Gotham's defender, the Batman. He has no idea who I am, or, for that matter, what he is really up against. But I do. And I smile.

"Wayne! You pathetic putz. Did you really think you could escape from me?" The clown asks, not expecting me to be able to answer. He's right. I don't feel much like talking.

"Gotham will pay a tidy sum to get you back. Why, you are her favorite son! Always helping others, always donating money to the needy. Yadda Yadda Yadda. Well today, I'm the needy and Gotham City and Wayne Corp. are going to donate to me!"

As he rambles on, I remember leaving the New Year's Eve party at Veronica Vreeland's. I made excuses about going to pick up my date that wouldn't be ready until late. Actually, I was just itching to get out on the night's streets to make my rounds as Batman. I had just pulled into the drive at Wayne Manor when a blonde woman wearing a very, very short skirt called to me from the gate. I walked over to her. Just as my mind registered that it was in fact Harley Quinn, the Joker's henchwoman that stood at my gate, I felt a blinding hot stab in the back of my head. And then…. then I woke up here.

Here. I look around again. Tree after tree that confused me before suddenly gives me hope. I'm home. I'm on Wayne property. Somehow I managed to run from him and made it into the back yard. Now if I could just figure out a way to make it closer to the house….

He snatches me up and starts to choke me, then begins to rant that he is going to 'leave me with a smile'. I _know _what that means. He is planning on using his lethal laughing gas on me. God, I don't want Dick to find me like that. With a sickening smile plastered to my face… the thought brings chills to me. The 'chills' strike me as ironic and I'm laughing uncontrollably again. This angers him to his very core, which I find even more amusing.

"STOP LAUGHING!" He screams as he shakes me.

"I thought people were supposed to laugh at clowns?" A spunky, youthful voice interrupts. It's Dick. Oh God. He's not supposed to be here. A twelve year old, no matter how well trained is no match for the Joker alone.

"Son, go…get…help!" I try to scream. It comes out more as a feeble yelp.

"Already did. Commissioner Gordon and half the police in Gotham are at the front gate. Alfie is letting them in now." Dick states with confidence.

"Why you…. BRAT!" Joker screams, throwing me down to have a grab at him.

When he releases me I use what little strength I have left and give him a blind bull run and tag, tossing him to the ground. I land on him, pinning him there for good measure. No way in hell is that pasty-faced bastard getting his white-gloved hands on my son….

VVVVV

"Easy, take it slow…" I hear Alfred cautioning me. Who knew just attempting to rise up in bed could be so strenuous?

"Dick? Is the boy alright?" I ask my oldest friend urgently. My tired eyes dart around the room but there is no sign of the boy anywhere.

"Rest easy, Master Bruce. The boy is fine. He is giving his best reenactment to Ms. Barbara over the phone. He is very excited." Alfred explains with a smile. It's easy to see that he's proud of the boy. For that matter, so I am.

"So what happened? I don't remember too much." I confess sheepishly. It stings the ego to know that I was saved from my arch nemesis by a smart mouthed twelve year old. Somehow I just know Dick is never going to let me live this down.

"It seems that, you tackled the Joker and passed out, due to a concussion you acquired earlier in your struggle with him. When Ms. Harley Quinn attempted to help her 'puddin' as I believe she called him, Master Dick, did what he referred to as a 'Flying Grayson, lizard, wizard move' on her and knocked her out cold. She in turn fell on top of you, adding even more weight to the mix and the Joker could not unbury himself until the Commissioner arrived." Alfred told the story with a smile alight in his steel gray eyes. That boy had brought so much life to us both in such a short period of time.

"Shall I tell the young Master that you are awake?" Alfred asks while tucking the covers closely around me.

"No, Alfred. Let the boy brag to his girl. He's earned at least that much." I admit.

"_His girl?_" Alfred asks, teasing me. "Sir, she is considerably older than he…"

"Well don't tell him that. I don't think it's even crossed his mind." I tell him with a smile.

"Indeed. I'm sure that it has not." Alfred agrees and we both smile at one another as we listen to Dick's voice carry throughout the hallway as he explains the technical moves of the 'Flying Grayson, lizard, wizard move' to the girl of his dreams…


End file.
